


The Last Temptation of OQ

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Series: OQ Prompt Party 2019 [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Developing Relationship, F/M, Forbidden Love, Mild Language, Nuns, OQ Prompt Party 2019, Priests, Religious Conflict, Religious Content, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Swearing, Witness Protection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 07:12:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19057792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: They say that God works in mysterious ways and for reasons only He knows… AKA The one where love blossoms when a would-be deacon meets a nun in training and the rest, as they say, is history.





	The Last Temptation of OQ

**Author's Note:**

> Date Written: 26-31 May 2019  
> Word Count: 10427  
> Written for: OQPromptParty2019  
> Prompts: 4, 20, 34, 37, 48, 49, 52, 71, 79, 83, 103, 117, 120, 155, 162 [full list of prompts below the fic]  
> Summary: They say that God works in mysterious ways and for reasons only He knows… AKA The one where love blossoms when a would-be deacon meets a nun in training and the rest, as they say, is history.  
> Spoilers: Non-magical, modern AU set within the cloistered walls of a small town Catholic church. Everything we know of these characters is up for grabs and not set in stone.  
> Warnings: No standard warnings  
> Series: The Last Temptation of OQ  
> Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Doggie Duo  
> Link to: http://bdkk.shatterstorm.net/  
> Archive: ShatterStorm Productions & AO3 only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…  
> Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> Author’s Disclaimer: "Once Upon a Time," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis, Kitsis/Horowitz, and ABC Studios. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Once Upon a Time," ABC, or any representatives of the actors.
> 
> Author’s Notes: Okay, buckle in, kids, because these notes are gonna be long and messy. Welcome to my fckn mind. LMFAOOO Despite being pagan now and growing up Lutheran, I have a very deep and perpetual fascination with nuns, monks, and the religious life. Had I known as a child that there could be Lutheran nuns/sisters, I might be a very different person today. That said, I heard a story at some point in the last decade or so that fascinated me and stuck with me ever since. It was the story of a nun and a priest [or monk, it's a wee bit hazy] who fell in love and were released from their vows to marry and have children. My hazy memories tell me that it was Tom Bergeron's story, but I can find no links to support that, though I've found other stories that are similar. That was a huge influence on this fic.
> 
> The folder I have for research and inspiration for this particular fic is long and intense. Some of it is older, borne of year of research for a couple of novel ideas I have, and some is newer. What I have kept in this fic's research folder are 37 links that somehow contributed to this fic. What I didn't keep, for various reasons, is probably at least double that, if not triple. LOLOL I'm not listing anything specific here, but I will willingly share the folder's contents to anyone who asks.
> 
> This fic was a labor of love, and I really wasn't initially expecting it to be quite so long, but also had a LOT more angst initially involved. Somehow or other, that got shifted slightly, but I think the possibility for flashbacks to that angst is entirely possible, because I am now FULLY invested in this little AU. There's a lot more planned for these two adorkable goobers.
> 
> And yes, the title is a riff off of _The Last Temptation of Christ_ , mostly in title only. And if you recognize the marshals without using Google, I will write you the fic of your choice. *veg*
> 
> Dedication: My muses, as usual…
> 
> Beta: Many, many thanks to Anam, Nan, Brittany, and Hollie for the beta eyes, and thanks to everyone who's been encouraging this fic, too. Y'all are my sheroes…

Robin glances behind him, watching the familiarity of his life disappearing into the distance. His life will never be the same again. His fiancée paid the ultimate price for his freakish ability to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Marian never deserved that, and now he'll spend the rest of his life mourning the life they could've had together while he attempts to live another life somewhere else, away from his family and friends. All he knows of his new life is that he'll never get to have the wedding and big family with Marian that he'd wanted. But when the alternative is death…

The female agent -- _marshal_ , you absolute git! -- not driving begins to speak to him, and he forces his thoughts to the future.

"…looked into your background to see what we could work with for your new life in Witness Protection. We've managed to find something. It's a bit obscure to most people, but we're sure you can easily pick up where you left off."

That gets his attention fully. "Pick up where I left off what exactly?"

The other marshal -- What were their names again? -- glances over his shoulder at a stoplight as his partner flips through a file for several seconds before smiling. "It says in your file that you were in seminary for several years, but left just before you could take your final vows. Is that correct?"

Robin remembers that situation very well. He'd been out doing one of his ministerial practicums and found himself in the thrall of love at first sight with a young woman at the community center. He'd fought the attraction, steadfast in his faith and his desire to become a priest. By the end of the three month practicum, he was utterly besotted and conflicted. A long talk with his mentors led him to follow where his heart commanded, and he finished up the semester out of a sense of personal obligation, but ended up dating Marian and working with her at the community center until last night.

"You want me to go back to Seminary School?" He stares at the man in utter shock. "Are you daft? That was nearly a decade ago, and I didn't graduate. I've done other work since--"

"You won't be returning to the seminary, Mr. Locksley," the woman says, taking over as the car begins to move again. "You'll be taken to a small religious community in southern Maine to be one of their newest deacons and catechists. Your new name will be--"

"Deacon?" His eyes grow round. "What part of _I didn't graduate or take my final vows_ are you not getting here? Deacons perform actual sacramental jobs. I am not ordained for that. I all but left the church entirely because of my relationship with my fiancée."

"We understand that, Mr. Locksley," the man replies over his shoulder, eyes still on the road. "That's why Marshal Shannon and I are leaning more toward the catechist position, but to complete the image, there will be some aspects of the Deacon's life that you must accept."

Robin considers this for a moment, startled by how much of his training is starting to creep out already from behind the locked boxes he'd put them in. "How long will I be living this sham?"

"Deacon Robin Maistín will be with the Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Storybrooke until the trial for Nick Branson and his fellow mob cronies is complete. Depending on the outcome of the trial, you'll either be able to return to your old life again, or you'll be moved into a different life within WitSec."

_Deacon Maistín_. The name settles like a mantle on his shoulders, feeling more comfortable than he'd like to admit. The name is familiar, but he can't place it. "And do I get to determine Deacon Maistín's background or…" His words trail off as he takes the small sheaf of papers from the marshal. English and Irish Catholic on his mother's side, English on his father's. He can work with that, given it's his own background. Father died when he was young. Check. No siblings to worry about. Check. 

"This is a lot to unpack and deal with," he finally says, unsettled.

"We understand that. When you arrive in Storybrooke, you'll be given time in seclusion to study and become Deacon Maistín before you truly must interact. Everyone will be instructed that you are on a temporary vow of silence."

Robin snorts softly at that. It feels like a punishment, and he's never been good at following through easily on those. "One question. How did you determine my new last name? It sounds familiar, but I can't place it." The name repeats in his mind like a mantra as the woman begins to explain, and then it suddenly comes to him. "Hoodlum? Are you saying my name in Witness Protection is Robin Hood?" The laughter bubbles up past his lips and, try as he might, he cannot stop until the tears are streaming down his cheeks.

*****

She steps into the confessional, even though the light isn't on. It might be old Father Marco's turn today, and he's been known to forget to flip the switch upon entering. She _needs_ her confession today. Her dreams were unsettling again, and she awoke in the throes of an intense orgasm. This is most unbecoming of a novitiate, regardless of her age. Or, perhaps, _because_ of her age. Regina is no doe-eyed, impressionable teenager caught up in the intense hormones and emotions roiling through her body. She is thirty-three years old, the same age as Christ when he was crucified. She almost had the chance to raise a child almost three years ago, but the adoption fell through at the last minute. She spent the better part of a year in a deepening depression that fueled a drinking binge. It wasn't until she went into a rehab facility partially run by the nuns that she began to realize what might be the answer to her problems.

When Father Marco says nothing, but she can hear movement on the other side of the grille, she decides to take matters into her own hands. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been…" She swallows thickly as shame burns beneath her skin. "It has been three days since my last confession."

It takes a moment before she gets a variation on the required response. "Continue, my child." 

It's most assuredly _not_ Father Marco. She knows his voice, and he doesn't have a soft British accent that wraps around her like a thick coat of warm honey. Her body reacts viscerally, but she sucks in a breath and begins to list off her sins. It mortifies her that she's behaving like she is to the sound of this priest's voice, more so when she gets to confessing about the orgasm last night. (Not that she can confess to the one she wants to have right now if he'd just talk to her.) When she finally winds down to the last of her sins, she takes a shaky breath and softly says, "That is all I remember, Father. I am sorry for these and all the sins of my past life." Overcome with emotion, she goes quiet again.

Rather than questioning her on her confession, as she's come to expect from the priests of the Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary, he immediately offers her a penance of six Rosaries and five Hail Marys. It's certainly less than she expects, particularly given her admission of her orgasm, but the priest is the physical embodiment of God in such cases, so she accepts it without question and launches into the Act of Contrition. He gives her absolution, and she feels a slight twinge at the sound of his voice again, the lyrical quality of his speech.

Realizing that she is finished here, Regina thanks him and stands quickly to leave. The sudden wave of vertigo hits as she opens the door and tries to step out into the aisle of the nave, making her trip on her own feet and fall to the floor in a heap.

*****

Robin sits quietly in the confessional, shaken from what he's just heard and done. This was _not_ what he agreed to for placement here two weeks ago. He'll be calling Marshals Shannon and Mann as soon as physically possible to get him a different assignment. He doesn't trust the local agents to actually _do_ anything to help him. The sound of a sudden thump echoes in the nave, and curiosity gets the better of him. Stepping out into the nave, he spots a woman in the habit of a novitiate sprawled on the ground, a streak of blood on her left temple and cheek.

The blood may be the first thing he notices, but it's the scars almost hidden under her veil and habit that pull his attention afterward. Kneeling next to the woman, he gently touches her shoulder. "Sister? Can you hear me? Are you all right?" When she doesn't respond, he glances briefly around the nave, frowning as he realizes the nuns from earlier are gone. He can't leave her here alone to go find someone, and he can't do anything to help her here. "I'm sorry to do this without your consent, but you're hurt."

He picks her up in his arms, startled by just how tiny she is, and quickly makes his way to the infirmary to set her on a bed. Realizing that no one is in the room, he frowns and moves to get some basic supplies to clean up the drying blood on her face. Turning to face her, he can't help but stare at this beautiful woman in front of him. Her dusky skin has a pallor to it that worries him, the long lashes looking darker than they likely are. Her lips are slightly pursed and separated, their natural shade enticing him to see what she tastes like, but he won't. That has never been his way. Without thought, Robin carefully removes the now-stained veil and gently feels her skull for any injuries. Her hair is dark, curly, and soft as silk against his fingers. He _aches_ with the need to comb through her hair some more, preferably while kissing those full lips, but this is a woman clearly possessed of a higher spiritual calling, despite the words of her confession.

It takes a herculean effort to turn his mind back to tending to this woman's wounds. He doesn't even know her name yet. Belatedly pulling on latex gloves, Robin works to clean up the blood and bandage the one tiny wound he finds. He knows by the goose egg a couple inches above her ear where she hit either floor or the edge of a pew that she'll have a nasty bruise and headache by morning. As he's looking for any other wounds, to be safe, she moans softly.

"Sister? Can you open your eyes for me?" The soft moan she makes sends a jolt of desire straight to his cock and he reminds himself that she is not available to him like that. Hopefully he'll only be here a couple of months, then he can move on to whatever life he gets. Besides, Marian's only been dead and in the ground for two weeks now, and he's already moving on? What kind of cad does that? She moans again, face wrinkling in pain. "Sister? Can you hear me? Let me see your eyes, Sister, so I know you're still with me."

A third moan passes her lips and she tries to sit up, but he stops her. "Wha--"

"Just lie back a bit longer, Sister, and open your eyes." 

When she does as he requests, Robin feels the breath sucked from his lungs. She has eyes the color of burnt sienna that go almost honeyed where the brightest light hits them, flecked with the tiniest bits of green, gold, and blue, almost an afterthought. It takes a handful of heartbeats before he remembers to check her pupils, more of his first aid training coming back.

"Hello there," he says with a gentle smile. "I'm Deacon Maistín. Can you tell me your name?"

"R-Regina," she replies softly. "Sister Regina. What happened?"

He frowns at that, wondering if she's actually concussed or not. "I was about to ask you the same thing. It would appear you fell coming out of the confessional and hit your head. Can you recognize the room we're in?"

She turns slowly to look around the room before meeting his gaze again, cheeks going a dusky red. "The infirmary?"

"Very good. Do you know what day it is?"

"Wednesday. I-I wanted to make sure I got in a confession before evening Mass." Her eyes grow comically wide, face flushing even redder as she closes her eyes and lets her head fall back on the pillow again. "Oh no…" she whispers. "I remember now. I tripped coming out of the confessional booth. I tried to break my fall, but clearly that was a bust."

Robin finds her embarrassment adorable as hell, and he wants nothing more than to pull her into his arms until she relaxes again. Such strange thoughts to be having when one is in mourning and Witness Protection at the same time. But such is his lot in life at present, and he's always gone with the flow of the Universe's pull on him.

"Perhaps there was a stray nail head sticking up that caught your hem or shoe," he says finally. "Once I know you're all right, I'll go take a look at it. I've a fair hand with carpentry."

"Just like Joseph and the brothers of Jesus." There's a teasing, sensual lilt to her tone now. "How apropos for a priest."

"Deacon," he supplies automatically. "I never got far enough for the actual priesthood." It's not a lie…

"Do you align yourself more with Simon Peter and Paul then?"

That gives him pause, and he struggles for a moment with an answer… and with the growing arousal for this sweet temptress before him. And then, as if given to him by God Himself, he says, "I am but a mere mortal doing God's work. I am what He made me and I do what He bids me."

Again, not _exactly_ a lie…

The smile on her face is breathtaking. He vows then and there to do whatever it takes to make her smile like that for as long as he's within these cloistered walls. Even as he knows this must be another great trial of faith for him, whether from God or Satan, he cannot help himself but want to know her better.

*****

Regina is sitting quietly in the garden for a rare hour of free time, enjoying the solitude and sunshine. In the past two weeks since her graceless and embarrassing fall in front of Rob-- _Deacon Maistín_ , she's managed to get to know the quiet loner better. The man has a grasp on the highs and lows of living in the real world that she wouldn't expect from any kind of lifelong cleric. He also has a wicked sense of humor that brings out so many of her worst tendencies, things her mother would absolutely frown upon as being uncouth and vulgar. And yet, Regina can't stop thinking about spending more time with him, learning more about him.

"Sister Regina?"

_Think of the devil, and he shall appear._

She opens her eyes and squints up to see the very man invading her thoughts silhouetted by the sunlight, and a very particular warmth flows through her veins. He's in the blacks and collar, and his skin bears a faint sheen of perspiration. The sudden urge to lick away that sweat hits her, and she feels her own temperature rising. 

"Deacon Maistín, good afternoon!" She prays her voice doesn't sound as breathy to him as it does to her. "What brings you out to this part of the gardens?"

"Just…" His voice trails off as his eyes shift up to the dappled sunlight through the tree's leaves. She notices the red rimming his eyes. "Just needed to reconnect with the beauty of life as God's given it to us." He offers her a small, sad smile. "I didn't mean to intrude on your solitude, Sister. I only wished to say hello. I'll leave you to it."

He turns to leave, and her hand shoots out to wrap around his wrist, vaguely aware that she's touching that intriguing tattoo of his. "Don't go," she pleads, hating herself for sounding so weak, especially where he's concerned.

"Regina?"

_Jesus, give me strength, but my name sounds good on his lips._

"You, uh, you look like you could use some company. I, uh, I don't mind if you join me. If you want, of course."

Could she sound any more pathetic and childish? She's a grown woman, after all. A grown woman who finds herself wanting his company and attention more and more with each passing day. Regina knows she needs to be careful here, or this could become a serious problem.

"You're sure? You looked rather peaceful when I came over here."

"I'm sure." She shifts slightly and pats the blanket next to her. "I'll even give you the choice of the sunny side or the shady side."

Robin settles next to her with a tight smile and looks up at the sky. The silence between them is comfortable and she resists the urge to rest her head on his shoulder. For a few minutes, it's just the two of them, communing with the wonders of God's creations.

"Have you ever lost someone important in your life?"

The question startles her, both the subject and the sudden, soft intrusion into her thoughts. She considers his words for a moment before answering. "I have. It led me to this religious life."

"It did?" She can tell he's curious, but trying to be polite. "May I ask what happened?" 

The hazy image of a tiny baby boy fills her mind. "I was supposed to adopt a beautiful little boy three and a half years ago. I had the nursery all ready, narrowed down my list of names, planned to ask my best friend to be his godmother." She sighs softly. "And then the birth mother changed her mind at the last minute and kept him. I was left with a nursery filled with things I'd never use, a crappy cellphone picture of his face, and a hole in my heart and soul that threatened to pull me under. I fell into a debilitating depression that saw me drowning my pain in any grade of tequila I could get my hands on while pushing away everyone who loved or cared about me for about a year. And then one night, I was walking home from the corner bodega with my shitty tequila and a bag of limes. I passed a church and was overcome with this _need_ to go inside and light a candle to the Virgin Mary. I went in, purchases in hand, lit that candle in honor of that sweet little boy and the mother I could've been, and dropped to my knees in prayer."

"Did it help?" he asks softly, as if afraid to interrupt her.

"It did. I left the tequila behind and the next day I found myself a rehab to dry out. It happened to be partnered with this church, so I met several of the nuns who did outreach work. Their lives seemed so fulfilling, so meaningful, so filled with love and purpose, and I thought it might be the life for me. I signed up for my discernment and postulancy the day I was released from rehab. That was two and a half years ago. About six months ago, I took my temporary vows as a novitiate."

"Do you ever regret your decision?"

_I'm starting to…_

"Not really," she says, mostly honestly. "I mean, there are days I wonder if this is truly what God wants for me, but then I realize that I have another year and a half before I choose to take final vows or not. If God wants me on another path, I trust Him to guide me there." She offers him a tentative smile then, and begins to realize why _particular friendships_ are so frowned upon.

"Thank you for sharing your story with me, Regina." He licks his lips and rubs at the back of his head, and she can just make out the sheen of tears in his eyes again. "I lost someone, too, someone very important to me. It's still too painful to talk about, but when I am able…"

"When you're able?" she asks, setting a hand on his shoulder.

"When I'm able, I'd like to discuss it with you."

She nods and gently rubs his back, wanting to pull him into her arms. She can feel the pain of a kindred soul. "I'd be honored to hear your story, Deac--"

"Robin."

"I'm sorry?"

"Please don't call me Deacon Maistín right now." His voice is husky, filled with unshed tears. "I'm not here in any official capacity."

"Okay, Robin."

God help her, the way his name tastes on her lips is sinful bliss, and she hates herself for feeling that way when he's clearly in turmoil. She watches him turn in on himself for a moment or two, continues to rub his back gently. Glancing around when she hears a pained sound from him, she notes that they're still alone in the garden. "Robin, I hate to see you like this. Is there anything I can do?"

The question is barely out of her mouth when he turns to crumple against her chest, tears soaking into her habit. She wraps her arms around him as he cries, offering any comfort she can offer. Before she understands what's happening, he starts talking about his wife and how devastating her death was for him. This isn't what she was expecting from his story, but it firms her resolve that she can't spend so much time with him. And she certainly can't continue to entertain any fantasies about him.

Finally he pulls back to mumble, "My apologies, milady. I overstepped my place. I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have come out here. I shouldn't have burdened you like this."

"Robin, no, it's all right." She cups his chin in her hand in an attempt to pull his attention from his diatribe. "This is what we do for those in need, isn't it?"

"This is not how a deacon behaves in the presence of a sister in Christ."

"Robin, stop it! You and I both know that we're more than our calling. You needed comfort, I gladly gave it to you, just as you have to me, both today and two weeks ago when I got hurt. You've nothing to apologize for."

In the space between one heartbeat and the next, she feels the world tilt on its axis, just like it had that night when she passed the church. As if controlled by someone or something else, she tightens her grip on his chin, tugs his face up, and kisses him. He stiffens briefly against her and, realizing what she's done, she pulls back to apologize. "Robin, I--"

The look in his eyes will haunt her for the rest of her life, equal parts shame, fear, and desire in blue eyes gone dark. And then his lips are on hers, the façade of civility lost on both of them. Teeth clash, tears mingle on tongues that move possessively against each other, and she lets out a soft moan of pent-up need.

*****

> _Dear Regina,  
>  It has been two weeks since that fateful day in the garden. I haven't seen you since you fled from my side. Father Marco and Mother Superior informed me that you'd gone into seclusion with a vow of perpetual silence in contemplation of your faith._
> 
> _I have heard nothing since, and assume that this self-enforced solitary confinement is because of what happened that day. I can never forgive myself for making you question your faith and your calling, even as I cannot find myself sorry for kissing you._
> 
> _What a bothersome conundrum I've placed you in. I wish that I could go back to that day, continue walking on instead of approaching you in the first place. If it means that you have no crisis of faith, I would do it without hesitation. I never meant to hurt you._
> 
> _I am so sorry, milady. Can you ever forgive me?_
> 
> _Yours in Christ,  
>  Robin_

He stares at the letter with tears in his eyes for a long minute before sanding the ink, then folds it up and tucks it away in his bible. Scrubbing roughly at his face, he pulls out another sheet of paper and dips his pen in the inkwell, but pauses before starting to write.

> _My dear Marian,_
> 
> _It has been six weeks since you were taken so brutally from me. I still mourn your loss in my life every day. But I find myself in a quandary that I could certainly use your wisdom on. As much as it pains me to admit this to you, I have fallen in love again. I feel like such a cad. I haven't even fully mourned your loss, and here I am head over heels for a novitiate, of all people._
> 
> _What do I do, Marian? The last time I felt this strongly about a person, that person was… YOU._
> 
> _But she's been called to serve God, just as I once was. I don't even know how long I'll be here anymore, or where I'll end up next, but I cannot imagine my life without her in it. We shared one kiss two weeks ago. Technically, it was two, but they run together in my mind and with the scant seconds between one and the next, can they not just be one long, extended kiss?_
> 
> _This time, it's not my vows in jeopardy, but hers. It's not my place to ask her to set them aside for something as selfish as love. Perhaps it no longer matters, as she put herself into self-induced solitary confinement within hours of our kisses. Clearly she regrets this temptation and wishes to no longer see me._
> 
> _I've really botched it up this time. I think perhaps it's best if I call the marshals assigned to my case and have them find me a new life to live, far away from Storybrooke, Maine. I will live with the guilt and shame of my sins, but I cannot allow her to suffer the same._
> 
> _I wish you were here to give me your guidance._
> 
> _I will always love you, my Marian._
> 
> _Yours,  
>  Robin_

This letter also goes into his bible once the ink is sanded and dried. Nothing of importance is kept anywhere but in his bible or on his person. He cannot risk his true identity being learned. Not yet anyway.

With a heavy sigh, he picks up the bible and his cell phone and heads out into the far end of the gardens to make his call. It belatedly dawns on him that he's back under that tree where he'd found Regina two weeks ago again, when his life changed irrevocably for the second time in a month. And now, here he is, attempting to change it again.

He stands there for a long minute or two, awash in memories, before scrolling through his contacts to find the one listed as "Aunt Mary" and initiates the call, frustrated tears filling his eyes.

"Marshal Shannon? This is" -- he _still_ hesitates with the name -- "Deacon Robin Maistín. I need your help in getting a reassignment."

*****

The knock at the door startles Regina. The only people who've come to her cell during her isolation have been Father Marco, Mother Superior, and one of the postulants assigned to bring her meals and swap out her laundry. They have set times they come each day. This is not one of those times.

She only breaks her silence to speak with Father Marco. The old man doesn't know the sign language she's learned to use with the sisters during their periods of enforced silence, particularly Grand Silence. She isn't fully fluent in the language, but always has pen and paper as a backup plan. It hasn't failed her so far.

Crossing herself, Regina stands from the _prie dieu_ and smooths her hands down her habit before moving to answer the door. To say she's stunned to find Robin standing there is a gross understatement of fact. She stares at him, unable to breathe or even look away. She has missed him these two weeks of her self-imposed isolation, which has only compounded her conflicted feelings.

Before she can even think of breaking her silence or grabbing pen and paper, Robin's right hand raises to fingerspell her name, followed by halting, imprecise sign language: _Regina, please talk to me._

She sucks in a breath, easing the burn in her lungs briefly before letting it out wetly. Rapid blinking does nothing to clear the blur of tears as she continues to stare at his face. She wants to answer him, but can't get her hands or her mouth to obey her wishes.

When he begins to spell her name again, she shakes her head and raises her right hand above her head and makes the sign for "crown" with her first two fingers twisted in the "r" sign and thumb out. Her left hand gently taps her chest next, alternating the two to indicate how he can sign her name without spelling it each time. The first full smile she's had in two weeks starts to light up her face when he repeats the sign, then smiles at her with the tip of his tongue peeking out. Somehow this breaks her paralysis and she leans forward to look down the hall to either side of him before stepping back cautiously.

"Mother Superior and Father Marco gave me permission to be in your cell unsupervised," he says, still not moving. "But if you'd rather…" When she shakes her head, his smile grows brighter and he takes a step closer to her. With each step she takes into her cell, he follows her until he reaches to touch the door. "Open or closed?" She pauses to consider his request, and he speaks again. "I am perfectly fine with it open. I have something important to tell you, but I can work around the open door without question or much hesitation."

Hands moving up to wipe at the tears slipping down her cheeks at the sight of him, Regina pauses a moment, then signs _closed_. She can trust him, she _knows_ she can trust him. His grateful smile as he closes the door makes her heart clench. She moves further into the room, gesturing for him to take the chair at her desk as she settles on her bed. Silence settles over them for a moment as she watches him glance around her room. Finally she signs _You wanted to tell me something?_

"Yes," he says softly. "I hope you don't mind that I speak this. My sign language is rather rudimentary at best." When she nods, he lets out a relieved sigh, but the smile leaves his eyes. "I-- First things first, I need to apologize to you. I never should've kissed you like that. It was clearly temptation that should've been avoided."

Her heart sinks at his words. As much as she has her doubts and regrets about what happened and what it means for her faith and her calling, she feels an acute sense of loss that he doesn't return the feelings she's so conflicted about. Swallowing thickly, she shakes her head and signs _It's fine. Don't apologize. I kissed you first. And I'm…_ She's not sorry, exactly, but she knows she should apologize. _I'm sorry if that upset you._

Robin stares at her, eyes widening at her words. "Regina, no! That didn't upset me. You disappearing for two weeks is what upset me. I…" He lets out an explosive sigh. "I thought you hated me for what happened. And if you do, I accept that as penance." She shakes her head vigorously, she could never hate him. "I'm glad you don't. I wish I'd known that before…"

_Before what?_ She barely acknowledges the thought before the words are signed. He fidgets in his seat, spiking _her_ anxiety, and she repeats her question.

"Regina, there's something I need to tell you. You are the first person here to hear this from me. I pray that you'll keep this information in confidence." He pauses until she nods, repeating the motion and licking his lips. "Do you-- Have you--" He's on his feet, beginning to pace then, and she follows his movements with her eyes. "I have been living a lie for six weeks now. My last name isn't Maistín. I can't tell you my last name just yet, for my safety and yours, but the second I am able to, I will."

She frowns, remembering the last time he said he would tell her something when he was able. She feels the spike of adrenalin and motions for him to continue, miming the ripping off of a Band-Aid. She wants to know what's going on, if only to stave off the increasing anxiety coursing through her veins, and angrily signs _Just tell me!_ when he faces her again.

Robin takes a deep breath and says, "I'm not really a deacon." The blood roars in her ears and she dimly hears the rest of his explanation about his wife -- _fiancée_ \-- and her death and the trial requiring his testimony and his past in the seminary and with _her_. He finally stops his pacing to stand in front of her. There are tears staining his cheeks and his shirt as grief and guilt and the need for forgiveness assault her in waves. He drops to his knees, head bowed, and he touches her for the first time, a hand on her knee for balance as he whispers, "I have to leave here, I have to leave _you_ , and this hurts me every bit as much as losing her did. I've only ever felt this way about one other person, about her, but I can't stay here if it means I'm tempting you away from your calling to Christ's work. I walked away for love almost a decade ago, because I knew in my heart that it was what I needed and what God wanted for me. I won't force you to do the same, Regina. But that means I need to leave to you keep you safe."

She shakes her head violently and latches onto his hand on her knee with a tight grip, the breath leaching from her lungs at the thought of losing him. It's the only piece of his explanation that she can focus on. He's going to leave her, abandon her and take the happiness that he's brought to her life with him. She starts to sign rapidly at him, pouring out her feelings and her fears about his revelations. When she realizes he's not even looking at her, she reaches down to cup his face in her hands, forcing him to look up at her. The anguish in his eyes flays her open to the bone and she leans in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, pulling a wrenching sob from his lips. She repeats the same gentle kisses to his eyelids, his temples, his nose, his cheeks, and finally his lips. Nothing lasts longer than a handful of rapid heartbeats, not even the final one. She wants to absolve him of any guilt over their kisses.

He looks up at her, love and fear and _want_ naked in his stormy blue eyes. _Stay_ , she signs. _Stay with me._ He shakes his head, more tears slipping down his cheeks, and the excruciating ache of her heart shattering in her chest is punctuated by a low, animalistic moan. The thought of losing his presence permanently is too much. She runs her thumbs over his cheeks, trying and failing to catch his tears before they melt into the scruff beneath her palms, and turns to pressing repeated kisses to his cheeks in a further attempt to stem their flow, ignoring her own in her attempt to console him. 

She's not sure which one of them moves first, nor does she actually care as her lips press against his. It feels good. No, that's not right. It feels like _home_. Even those first frenzied, fumbled kisses two weeks ago didn't feel like this. Those were intense, scratching a curious, needy itch. This? This is also intense, and she doesn't want it to stop. A kind of peace steals over her as their lips glide together, the missing piece of the jigsaw puzzle of her life sliding into place. Without thought, the tip of her tongue peeks out to taste his lips, wanting to commit every last detail about this to memory.

*****

This kiss doesn't surprise him, not in the slightest. He'd be lying to say he doesn't want this and more with Regina. He wants the whole package with her, just as he had with Marian. He doesn't know if his grief over Marian's death is fueling this need or not, but he viciously pushes thoughts of Marian out of his mind. Right now is for Regina.

The sensation of her tongue on his lips unlocks a soul-deep need within him. His lips part, tongue tip peeking out to stroke against hers. A jolt of _rightness_ settles over him and, when she repeats the simple touch, he deepens the kiss. His hands glide up her arms slowly, both to allow her the chance to stop this and because he wants to memorize everything about her. This may be the last time he ever gets to be this close to Regina, and he never wants to forget her. When she doesn't put a stop to the kiss, Robin's hands finish the journey up to tug off her veil and tangle in the hair he's dreamed about since taking care of her a month ago. Each silky strand burns into his skin, branding him as hers for as long as she'll have him.

The kiss seems to go on forever as he cradles her head, fingers massaging her scalp and hair. Regina's hands don't leave his face, finger flexing to drag her nails through his scruff. She pulls back to pant heavily, forehead pressed against his. "Robin," she whispers brokenly, arousal deepening her voice, then kisses him again as one hand curls around the back of his head to pull him closer.

The groan is dragged up from the depths of his soul when the hand on his face tugs one of his hands down to cup her right breast. He swears he can hear God and Lucifer both laughing at him right in this very moment. Her nipple is hard beneath the layers of wool and cotton, his mouth watering even as he continues kissing her. Without conscious thought, his hand squeezes ever so slightly, kneading supple flesh, and wishing against all hope that he can feel it in his palm. Her knees tighten against his hips, pinning him in place, and he shifts enough to suck her bottom lip between his teeth to tug lightly. Her needy moan sends a jolt of desire straight to his cock, and he wants nothing more than to touch, taste, _possess_ every inch of her body. His lips move with purpose to trail sucking kisses along her jaw and down along the side of her neck, following the path of her pounding pulse until his lips brush against rough wool.

It takes a supreme effort to pull away from the soft sweetness of her skin to stare at her. "I-- Regina, I can't do this." When her eyes open, they're blacker than usual, pupils blown wide with lust, but tears fill them. "No! God, no, not like that! I just…" He fists the material of her habit at her shoulder. "This. I want you, but not with this on. Please, love…"

Regina blinks dumbly at him for a handful of rapid heartbeats, then explodes into action as she tugs at her habit. Robin shifts back on his knees, letting her stand to remove her habit and throw it behind him. She stands there in a white t-shirt thin enough to reveal the plain white bra beneath, before it also flies over his head. And then, she seems to curl in on herself and falls to the mattress.

"Regina?"

She shakes her head violently and signs _Don't look at me_.

"Regina, please."

When she shakes her head and repeats the signs, Robin licks his lips and studies her for a moment, sees how she shifts in an attempt to hide her left side from him. It takes a few seconds before he remembers the scars hidden beneath her hair and veil all those weeks ago. The pain and shame are quickly replacing the love and arousal in her eyes, and he simply cannot allow that to happen.

"You are beautiful, Regina. You have nothing to hide." She shakes her head and he smiles, moving closer to the bed as he holds out a hand to her. "The most beautiful woman I have ever met. Please let me see you, all of you. God would not make anyone in His image as less than perfect."

Something in his words clearly touches her, and she slowly turns to face him fully, arms still crossed up over her chest. Moving slowly, unwilling to spook her, Robin reaches up to take each of her hands in his and pull them away. The scars run from below her hairline down the side of her neck and over the left half of her chest, disappearing into the plain cotton of her bra, and also down her shoulder to trickle off just past her elbow. Those over her shoulder and chest are deeper, puckering into lines and shapes that almost seem to move.

Her chin trembles, tears slipping down her cheeks as his fingers ghost over the scars, never quite touching them, and he wants nothing more than to show her just how beautiful she truly is. Instead of touching what shames her, he reaches up to press tender kisses to her cheeks. As much as a part of him wishes to bare her completely and worship her in all of the sinful ways he can imagine, the need to show her that he's not an utter cad is even stronger. "Stunning in every way," he murmurs before their lips meet in a series of slow, sweet kisses as her fingers stroke down to rest on his shoulders. 

He shifts to begin dotting kisses along the left side of her jaw and down to the scars he felt once before. When she doesn't stop him, fingers beginning to massage his shoulders, Robin continues to map her marked skin with tender brushes of his lip, slowly moving down toward her shoulder. He carefully shifts her bra strap, then freezes as her hands move from his shoulders. Just as he's about to apologize, she reaches behind her to unclasp and remove her bra. It lands on the floor next to him and she gently presses his head lower. Robin takes the silent permission and traces his tongue down along the ridges of her scars until he can swirl it around the tight nub of her nipple. Her arching back allows him to envelop her nipple with his lips, sucking lightly. Her hitched breath when his teeth graze her skin affects him, and he feels his cock harden before shifting to repeat the attention on her other nipple.

Regina's fingers clutch at his shirt, forcing herself to undo half the buttons before she tugs it up off his body. He returns to kissing her as her hands roam the planes of his chest and back, constantly touching him. Her breathy moans entice him even more, and he knows in that moment that he wants no other woman for the rest of his life.

She shifts to the edge of the bed, legs wrapping around his hips to pull him closer as the kiss grow deeper, needier. He traps her bottom lip between his teeth again, tugging it until she whines and rakes her nails up his back. "Fuck," he hisses, the pain blossoming just on the edge of pleasure. She nods suddenly and shifts to tug at the fly of his pants. It takes a supreme effort to stop her, holding her hands in his as he asks, "Regina, are you sure?" The huskiness of his own voice startles him.

Once she nods vigorously, it's as if both of them are possessed by the need to come together in carnal union or die trying. They lose the last of their clothes in a frenzied blur and suddenly Robin finds himself hovering over her on his knees, kissing her as his fingers trail through her arousal. His thumb rubs little circles against her clit, her hips jerking in reaction, until she reaches down to firmly grasp his cock and tug him toward her. He pulls back to stare down at her, taking in the love and lust in her eyes. "Are you still sure?" Another emphatic nod and a squeeze to his cock is all the assurance he needs. "Tell me if I hurt you," he whispers against her lips as the head of his cock eases into her wet heat.

They both groan wantonly when he's fully sheathed, and just lie there for a long moment or two, trading kisses anywhere from sweet and teasing to needy and heated. He begins a steady rhythm of pulling almost completely out before thrusting back in, slow and deep. Her hips rise to meet his on each thrust, her legs wrapping around his waist to press her heels into his ass for leverage. His pace and depth adjust with her movements and soft sounds of pleasure, and he slips a hand between them to tease her clit, as well.

Before he realizes it, his hips are pistoning hard and fast, fingers keeping pace against her clit. He can feel his balls tighten as the need to come becomes almost too overwhelming to ignore, but he will be damned if he comes before she does. He shifts slightly to trap her sensitive left nipple between his teeth again, tongue tip lashing back and forth across it. This is enough to push her over the edge and she comes with a loud cry of his name, trembling and bucking under him. Robin follows her into orgasmic bliss with a softer call of her name muffled against her breast and her heart.

*****

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."

"Sister Regina, my child, this is not the confessional," Father Marco says, looking up at her standing in the door of his office.

"Please, Father, I wish you to hear my confession now."

"This is highly irregular," he replies, and she watches him look to Reverend Mother, with whom he's clearly been having an afternoon tea meeting.

Before she can respond, Reverend Mother says, "Are you finally choosing to end your self-imposed seclusion and vow of silence, Sister? It has only been four weeks. I was led to believe you wished a minimum of three months."

Regina resists the urge to fidget, but her fingers twist together nervously within the sleeves of her habit. Swallowing thickly, she meets the older woman's gaze. "I choose to end my seclusion and silence, Reverend Mother, but I needs must request that you both hear my confession to do so."

Chewing the inside of her cheek, she waits as they confer quietly for a moment or two, and internally curses the humid heat that plagues Storybrooke currently. It makes her ill to consider just how much worse it will get as summer progresses.

"Very well, my child," Father Marco finally says. "Please close the door and come kneel before us."

Regina does as asked, grateful for the small pillow he offers her for her knees. Sinking into position, she bows her head and repeats her earlier words. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession." 

"Go ahead, my child. What are your sins?"

She pauses for a moment to gather her thoughts, then begins to speak. "I took the Lord's name in vain five times, I intentionally skipped a meal each day as personal penance…" As she lists her sins, she feels her chest tightening against the sins she has held back, the lies she has told. Swallowing past her guilt, she continues with the reasons she is here today, not even noticing the tears starting to slip down her cheeks. "I have questioned my place here within these walls, both physically and spiritually. I am no longer certain that I can fulfill my duties as a novitiate or an eventual nun. I have had doubts about myself and about God more numerous than I can count, particularly about myself. I-- I developed a particular friendship with someone no longer within these walls and lied about it repeatedly and without hesitation, including letters written between us that were sent to a P.O. box in town. I--"

"Sister," Reverend Mother says, interrupting her from saying anything further. "What kind of particular friendship was it?"

She expected the question to come from Father Marco, but isn't entirely surprised that it's voiced by Reverend Mother. The older woman is far more astute than some give her credit for. Her eyes close briefly against the onslaught of memories before she can speak.

"It was-- I had carnal relations with him, Reverend Mother. It was only the once." Her brain supplies her with Robin's sweetly amused _If we don't leave this room, then I think this still counts as the first time, doesn't it?_ and she blushes hotly. "No, that's not true. It was twice."

"And with whom was this particular friendship?"

Bless Father Marco for still couching it in the terms she initially used, but she still whispers her reply. "Deacon Maistín."

Silence falls on the room, only the sound of the fan and the grandfather clock breaking it. She feels the tears finally when one drips onto her tightly clasped hands. It takes everything in her not to fall to the floor and grovel at their feet for forgiveness, penance, guidance.

"But he left us two weeks ago, Sister. Why did you wait so long to come forward about this?"

"I-I needed to determine what my feelings were," she eventually replies, voice still soft. "And…" She forces herself to meet their gazes now. "And I think I need to see him." She knows in her heart that she is still lying to them, but she is not able to voice this final omission to them or anyone else but God.

"I must ask, Regina, why you come to us for guidance when it would appear that your heart has already made up its mind," Father Marco says in a gentle tone that reminds her of her father. His lack of using her title does not escape her. "If you seek absolution, I will ask you this. Do you truly feel in your heart of hearts that you are not meant for the religious life? That your path lies elsewhere with this man you love?"

She never said the words, and yet he knows anyway. "I do. I wanted to believe that it was only because of his proximity to us for that mere four weeks he was within our community, but my feelings didn't waver once he left. In fact, they grew stronger in his absence. I didn't mean to sin so egregiously, and I know I would do it again if presented the option, but I _am_ truly sorry for doing so within these walls."

Father Marco smiles and leans in enough to press his hand to the top of her head. "I absolve you of your sins, my child. Your penance will be three rosaries, five Our Fathers, and five Hail Marys. You must complete your penance before you leave this place to find your future with the man you love."

*****

Robin glances at his phone for the millionth time, but there are no messages still. They're running late and he's getting more nervous with each passing minute. Marshal Shannon had called him yesterday afternoon to verify that he could meet her and Marshall Mann at Einstein Bros. Bagels, his favorite eatery in Aurora, around two in the afternoon today. It's nearly two-thirty, and he's been here since one-thirty, nervously sucking down coffee like it's oxygen. He has no idea what's coming, but assumes he's going to have to move again, this time not at his request.

His phone pings with a message from "Aunt Mary," and he lets out a sigh of relief at the six words there.

_Pulling into the parking lot now._

He glances outside, curiosity and dread a nest of writhing vipers in his stomach. Or maybe that's all the coffee. He should probably have switched to decaf half an hour ago. The bell rings over the door as it opens and he notices the blonde marshal looking around as she walks in. He raises his hand to wave her over, lips parted to say her name, but the world grinds to a halt and shifts three degree to the left when he recognizes the person stepping in behind her.

"R-Regina?"

She turns at the sound of her name, a tearful smile lighting up her face as she pushes past Marshal Shannon to run over and hug him. "Robin, you're here!"

She feels incredible in his arms. He has ached to touch her for the last three and a half weeks since he left Storybrooke. It takes a few seconds to realize she's not in her habit. He knows from their letters that she'd been questioning her commitment to her novitiate period, but as of her last letter, she'd been uncertain still. But it doesn't matter anymore. She wouldn't be here, out of her habit, if she wasn't picking him.

"I've missed you, love," he whispers. 

"I've missed you, too, Robin."

They separate long enough for Robin to shake the two marshals' hands and all four of them crowd into the booth. Regina sits next to him, and he simply cannot stop staring at her and touching her. If this is a dream, he hopes he'll never wake up.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"I wanted to tell you, but Mary and Marshall felt it would be better to do it this way."

The questions are racing in his mind, each clamoring for his attention, but all he can do is smile and press kisses to her knuckles. He knows the two marshals are talking, but the words are lost on him. Until he hears something important. "Wait. Regina's staying?" He looks to her for verification. "This isn't just a visit?"

She shakes her head. "If you'll have me, I'm here for good. Where you go, I go."

"Satan himself would have to come to try to take you away from me at this point."

They talk with the two marshals for several more minutes before Marshal Shannon says, "Okay, I hate to cut this short, but we need to head back to Denver. Your _cousins_ know that Regina's here, and they're going to want to meet her ASAP, of course." She smiles at Regina. "And you have that appointment tomorrow that we set up, remember?"

He notices the faint blush to Regina's cheeks. "I don't think I could forget it. Thank you so much for everything you've done for us."

Robin echoes the sentiment. "You've definitely gone above and beyond expectations. I can never thank you enough."

*****

The next morning, Regina wakes up with a start, unsure of her surroundings initially. But it's the sensation of Robin's arms wrapped around her, his solid chest under her cheek, that reminds her that this is her reality from now on. Before she can do more than smile, her stomach lurches and she's on her feet to race to the bathroom. She wants to cry at how wretched the vomiting makes her feel, but Robin is there with her, a gentle hand rubbing her back.

"Love, are you all right?" he asks as she leans back to flush the toilet.

She rinses her mouth out, then takes his hand and leads him back to bed. Settling under the covers, she begins to explain. "My choice to leave behind the idea of becoming a nun was easier to make than I expected it would be."

"I don't understand. What does this have to do with you throwing up?"

Regina takes a deep breath and reaches for his hand, settling it low against her belly. "Robin, I'm pregnant." The confusion and worry on his face are slowly replaced with awe and dawning realization. "I found out a few days ago with a test. After talking to Father Marco and Mother Superior, I contacted Mary to figure out how to set up me coming to live with you while you're in Witness Protection."

"And your appointment today?"

"She pulled some strings and got me in with an OB-GYN. We have an exam and possible ultrasound today."

"God chose to give us a miracle exactly when we needed it, didn't He?" Robin's joy is palpable and helps Regina to forget her morning sickness.

After sleeping in most of the morning, they run a few errands to get some things that they'll need before heading to the appointment, including stopping to get bagels again. When they finally head over to the doctor's office, both are practically vibrating with excitement, outside of Regina's second bout of morning sickness. She answers all of the questions requested about her medical history and her pregnancy to date, and then the doctor suggests the ultrasound, stating that they should be able to hear the heartbeat at this point. The vaginal transducer feels strange, but she pushes that feeling aside for the chance to see and possibly hear their baby. She grips Robin's hand tightly as they wait for the doctor's confirmation.

"Well, unless I'm wrong," the doctor says with a smirk, "and I am not usually wrong on this sort of thing." She pauses for them to laugh, which they do, then points to the screen. "I see two sacs here."

"Two?" Robin asks softly.

"Mm-hmm." The doctor points them out again, then studies both of them for a moment. "Would you like to see if we can hear their heartbeats?"

"Yes, please," Regina says, already feeling tears slipping down her cheeks. A few adjustments are made and then they can hear an odd little echoing whooshing sound. Her eyes still glued to the monitor, she squeezes Robin's hand tightly. "Those are our babies."

The rest of the appointment goes by in a blur, including setting up her next appointment, then Regina and Robin are getting into his Jeep. Silence fills the car for a moment or two before Robin turns to look at her. "This is the best day of my life so far. Can I take you somewhere special to celebrate? It's not far from our house."

When Regina nods, he starts the engine and drives to a park. Regina notes the name says Cherry Creek State Park. They still have their bagels from earlier and munch on them while walking through the park, exploring a couple of trails that wind in and around the lake. Eventually Regina removes her shoes to dip her toes in the lake as they walk along the surprisingly uncrowded beach. Finding a nice bench to watch the sunset, Robin helps her to sit down, and she resists the urge to tell him that she's not showing yet. She can see he's nervous as he sits with her, remembers the last time he looked so nervous with her and how much that day had changed their lives.

"Regina, my love, I think I fell in love with you the very first time I saw you," he finally says, facing her and holding her hands. "I fought my feelings because I wasn't about to tempt you away from what might be your life's calling. Clearly God had other things in mind for the two of us, and I couldn't be more grateful." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. Regina sucks in a breath when he opens the box to reveal a silver band in an infinity loop with a small perfect rose gold heart at its center. "Regina, will you make me the happiest man in the world, not only as the mother of my children, but as my wife?"

"Yes!" she cries, overwhelmed. "Oh my god, Robin, yes!"

He fumbles a bit to get the ring from the box and slip in on her finger, then pulls her into a sweet, lingering kiss. She can taste their tears and doesn't care. This is the first day of the rest of their lives together. 

"It looks as perfect on your finger as I'd hoped," he finally says.

"How long have you had this ring, Robin? You didn't even know I was coming yesterday."

He offers her a sheepish smile, the tip of his tongue peeking out past his teeth. "When you told me you loved me and were questioning your vows, the day we slept together, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I bought this ring in Storybrooke before I left to come to Denver, and I've carried it in my pocket ever since, just waiting for the day I could put it on your finger."

His explanation makes her cry harder and pull him into another kiss. Eventually, she pulls back to rest her forehead against his. "I love you, Robin, and I know this is where I'm meant to be, with you and our coming children."

**Author's Note:**

>  **Full Prompts list:**  
>  004\. Regina has scars from surviving a fire and thinks nobody can love her, Robin proves her wrong.  
> 020\. Makeup sex  
> 034\. One of them gets injured and the other has to take care of them.  
> 037\. Robin & Regina are expecting twins.  
> 048\. One of them falling (any kind of fall), the other helping  
> 049\. Person A almost losing a loved one and person B tries to comfort them.  
> 052\. Letters  
> 071\. Regina and Robin take a walk on the beach at sundown.  
> 079\. Robin disguised as a priest and seeks shelter at a monastery where he meets novice Regina.  
> 083\. An "accidental" kiss.  
> 103\. A day at the beach.  
> 117\. OQ modern world AU with no magic.  
> 120\. Robin gives Regina a ring.  
> 155\. Robin the handyman.  
> 162\. Regina talks to Robin for the first time.
> 
>  
> 
> **Cover art sources**
> 
>   * [Thurifer](https://zenit.org/articles/swings-of-the-thurible/)
>   * [Bible](https://www.history.com/topics/religion/bible)
>   * [Nun praying](https://www.howtobecome.com/how-to-become-a-nun)
>   * [Regina](http://www.farfarawaysite.com/section/once/gallery8/gallery17/hires/18.jpg)
>   * [Robin](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sean_Maguire)
>   * [Female hands praying with rosary](https://www.mtccary.org/event/lenten-penance-service/)
>   * [Male hands with rosary](https://www.vermontcatholic.org/vermont/the-rosary-a-prayer-for-anyone-anywhere-anytime/)
>   * [Infinity heart ring](https://www.blueapplejewelryco.com/products/infinity-ring-infinity-heart-crisscross-ring-2-tone-two-tone-rose-gold-sterling-silver-ball-simple-plain-infinity-ring-love-valentines-gift)
> 



End file.
